


One Bullet

by blueboxcumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxcumberbatch/pseuds/blueboxcumberbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty has finally won, and John and Sherlock have ten minutes to figure out which one of them will die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Bullet

“One bullet. Two men. Ten minutes. Let the games begin!”

Moriarty turned and walked away, knowing that John and Sherlock knew the situation they were in. One of them had to die within the next ten minutes or he’d kill both of them. It was the best way to make sure the survivor, if there was one, had a broken spirit.

The two men, alone in the room, were both eyeing the gun sitting on the table. John was the first one to try to make a run for it, but Sherlock tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

“No,” Sherlock warned. “You will not die here.”

“Neither will you!” John whipped Sherlock to the side and tried again to get to the gun. Sherlock still had a hold on John’s ankle, however, so John fell to the floor.

“Sherlock, you know one of us has to do this.” His tone had softened, and he hoped that this approach would change Sherlock’s mind.

Sherlock shook his head and responded, “He’s not threatened by you. He’d kill me anyway if I got out of here. Let me give you the opportunity to live a life you deserve, a life that doesn’t include me.”

John sighed and turned to wholly face Sherlock. He had no intention of dashing to get the gun at the moment, but Sherlock kept a hold on his ankle anyway. “Sherlock, listen to me. I don’t want to live a life without you in it. And as selfish as it may seem, I’m not going to be the one to carry on without the other. You’re stronger in that way than I am. You can brush me off like I’m nothing, but I couldn’t handle going back to Baker Street without you.”

Sherlock let out a low chuckle and quietly mumbled, “No, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t brush you off like you were nothing.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, at a clear stalemate for who was going to get the gun.

A loud buzz sounded, and the speaker in the corner of the room chimed in with the sound of Moriarty’s voice saying, “Tick tock, boys. You’ve got five minutes.”

John looked at Sherlock and sighed. He knew there was no way of convincing Sherlock to let him have the gun. He was trying to figure out a way to get Sherlock unconscious when he interrupted his thoughts.

“John, I have an idea.”

“What? What is it?”

“We could both go at the same time.”

“What?”

“I know there’s no convincing you to let me have the gun, and vice versa. But if we stand next to each other and one of us shoots himself in the head, the bullet would penetrate both of our skulls and we’d die simultaneously.” Sherlock’s face was blank, but there was an unmistakable fear in his eyes.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” John knew that Sherlock wouldn’t try to trick him at a time like this, so he stepped away from the table and let Sherlock grab the gun. However, he was shocked when Sherlock turned and gave the gun to John.

“What’s this?”

“Trust me.”

John held the gun while Sherlock positioned himself next to John, slightly bent over to be just at eye level. He put his own hand around John’s and they held the gun together, next to John’s temple. John’s heart was racing.

“Are you ready?” Sherlock’s voice was a mere whisper.

“Yes.”

“On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

John and Sherlock pulled the trigger at the same time, but John jerked his head down and took the gun with him, leaving him lying on the floor with the bullet in his head while Sherlock stood there in pure shock.

“No! No, John, no! That’s not what we agreed on!” He cradled John’s lifeless body and let the tears slide down his face, still refusing the idea that John had betrayed him and left him alone in this world.

Moriarty opened the door and smiled at Sherlock. “Well, well. I honestly can’t believe you fell for that. And it was your own idea in the first place.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s almost like you allowed him to kill himself.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Like you planted the idea in his brain.”

Sherlock stood up and approached Moriarty, who was still planning on toying with Sherlock’s emotions before bringing him back to his flat. A quick twist of his wrists, and Sherlock had broken Moriatry’s arm. He stalked off, walking to the nearest street to hail a cab. Nobody dared stop him, he was emanating fury.

When he was back in 221B Baker Street, he grabbed the nearest rope and tied it to the first tall object he saw that would hold his weight. He used the blood on his hands from when he was holding John to scrawl “I’m sorry” on the wall before tying himself up and jumping off of John’s armchair. His last thoughts were wondering if hell really existed, and whether or not the devil would have the good graces to let Sherlock get a glimpse of John in heaven.


End file.
